


Show No Mercy for the Wicked

by dumplings



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ? I think, F/M, M/M, Psychological, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumplings/pseuds/dumplings
Summary: Whilst Jongdae fucks some underage girl in a city far away, Baekhyun tries to keep old secrets hidden, and Kyungsoo is willing to do everything in his might to persuade Chanyeol to buy him new china.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Psalm 59, if anybody's in doubt.

 (what’s the point?)   

 

When the sun sets in Korea, it’s still pitch black in the Kazakhstani city of Taldykorgan, located in the Central Asian country’s south eastern region. Jongdae sits alone in an empty apartment, in an empty apartment complex, feeling miles apart from the rest of civilization.

If Jongdae closes his eyes he can clearly see sunlight making its way through the blinds in Kyungsoo’s Seoul apartment. It’s hard to believe South Korea is only three hours ahead of Eastern Kazakhstan, in his head it’s an eternity away. It’s only been six months since he left Korea to go back to Taldykorgan but Jongdae still wonders if he’s already forgotten how to speak his native language, yet alone navigate the capital.

His watch reads 4 AM, which means he really should be sleeping, but the days of doing as he should do are over, only faint memories of a time where he felt and acted like a somewhat normal person remain, but they’re vague.

Staying awake all night is the easiest way for him to completely dissociate from reality, praying to God as a way of repelling his sins, or at least pretend to. Even if God claims willingness to forgive everyone, there has to be exceptions, and Jongdae knows damn well he has bought a first class ticket to Hell.

 

(coping)

 

Kyungsoo is in desperate need of new china, staring at the broken pieces of a once very pretty – not to mention expensive – porcelain cup. It was a present Chanyeol had brought home from a business trip to Japan, so Kyungsoo does feel terrible for letting his anger get the better of him, _again_.

His hands are covered in cuts, blood dripping on the floor as if he’d been taken straight out of a horror movie. What has to be “terrible-argument-with-parents” number 10 this week left him with no choice but to take every breakable object left in his house and hysterically throw it at the wall like a three-year-old who’d been denied the candy he wanted.

This, Kyungsoo thinks to himself as he tries to walk to the kitchen without stepping on shattered glass, is exactly why Jongdae decided to pack his stuff and take the first flight he could find back to whichever stupid Central Asian country he came from.

But Jongdae, Kyungsoo then reminds himself, is also the reason he started throwing angry tantrums in the first place, the reason he felt so fucking helpless and _angry_ he had to watch expensive plates shatter into a billion pieces to feel somewhat at ease.

Everybody has a coping mechanism.

He calls Chanyeol, “when are you going to Japan again?”

Chanyeol sounds sleepy, “not in the near future, why? If you want to go, we could totally figure something out.”

“No, I need new china.”

Chanyeol sighs deeply, Kyungsoo knows that he knows, “maybe you should stop asking people to buy you china. Maybe you should invest in plastic cups.”

Silence. Kyungsoo ends up whispering “never mind”, before hanging up, sitting down on the kitchen floor in a position where he’s unable to see the mess he’s left on the living room floor. His phone informs him that it’s only 7 AM. 7 AM and he has magically managed to reach anger levels impossible to control. He wonders if Jongdae’s still sleeping, where Jongdae is, generally, and what the other man is doing, if he’s still alive, because who the fuck knows these days.

 

(recklessness)

 

“What was your name again?” Jongdae has to ask the girl for the third time, it’s still too early for it to be morning, and the sky is still jet-black painted with stars, but prostitutes, much to his joy, work at all hours of the day, even the youngest ones.

“Karlygash,” she replies, her facial features tell him that she’s Kazakh, but he hasn’t asked so he can’t know for sure, “Makhmu-.”

“I don’t need your patronym or surname,” he places his hands on her mouth, her lip gloss leaving sticky marks on his fingers, “tell me Karlygash, a seventeen-year-old really shouldn’t be doing this, should she?”

She giggles, it’s supposed to look seductive, dirty, make Jongdae’s mind horny and his dick hard, if only she knew which way he swung. “Tell me Chongdae,” his name sounds so foreign, so _wrong_ , coming from the mouth of a native Russian-speaker. He’s always hated it, cursing himself for not just providing her with a fake name easier for her to pronounce. “A twenty-five-year-old really shouldn’t be doing this, should he?”

No, no he shouldn’t. Karlygash is a minor, probably unable to understand the lifelong consequences of what she’s doing, but so was the cute Russian girl he slept with two days ago, Anastasiya, and she definitely didn’t complain. The _legal_ age of consent in Kazakhstan is, however, 16, nobody can jail him for doing what he does. People would probably be more disgusted to find out that he’s gay than that he’s slept with countless of girls under the age of 18. “Does your family know?” He asks to change the subject.

Karlygash immediately goes silent, the smile disappearing from her lips as soon as the question leaves Jongdae’s mouth, “what do you care? Can’t you just penetrate me like you’re supposed to do?”

He shrugs, “I suppose.” He’s always been a person to talk during sex, Kyungsoo would often complain about it, not being one to talk much no matter the situation he was in.

“Does your family know you fuck underage girls?” She retorts, “that you get off on watching a teenager pretend to be innocent whilst you get to feel like the dominant man you were never able to be in your actual relationship? Don’t think you’re special Chongdae, I’ve been with many men just like you. Kazakhs, Russians, Chechens, Uyghurs, Koryo-saram too, you’re all the fucking same.”

Jongdae pushes her onto the bed, refusing to answer the question. “I’m not going to pay you, not with word vomit like that, fucking bitch.” Of course his family doesn’t know, his family doesn’t know anything. They’re probably sitting in their shitty apartment in Seoul, pretending to be happy about leaving Kazakhstan for a life in “their true home country”.

Kyungsoo might know, Jongdae never told him directly, but he’s left a fair share of hints that made it clear his past wasn’t exactly clean. He hopes Kyungsoo has forgotten by now, but facts like that tend to be difficult to erase properly from your brain.

 

(nostalgia)

 

Baekhyun meets Kyungsoo for the first time in the back of their shared friend Chanyeol’s car after a party thrown by people none of them know personally. Surprisingly, Baekhyun’s not piss-drunk for a chance, and ‘neither is Kyungsoo it seems, the latter having spend the entire party making sure nobody accidently threw up all over the floor.

It’s terrible, it’s terrible because Baekhyun and Kyungsoo just _click_ from the moment Baekhyun gets into the car, Kyungsoo laughing at all his terrible jokes, flirtingly leaning closer every minute, going as far as asking Baekhyun to spend the night at his place when they reach his apartment.

He hadn’t noticed at all until he got to see Kyungsoo in proper lighting in the living room, his eyes way too round and his lips way too plump for Baekhyun not to recognize.

Many years ago, seven years probably, Baekhyun thinks, he’d seen that exact same horrendously cute face, in an undoubtedly less enjoyable situation, though. Back then Baekhyun sat on the kitchen counter in a house belonging to a middle-aged woman he knew best as his homeroom teacher in high school, waiting for her to return to the kitchen with a condom – because he just _had_ to forget to bring one in the first place.

As Baekhyun sat there in his teacher’s kitchen, all those years ago, he recalls her son walking in. He appeared to be the same age as Baekhyun, and really, the encounter hadn’t been awkward at all had Baekhyun not been naked, and had his teacher not walked in two seconds after her son.

Kyungsoo, Baekhyun feels his stomach churn upon the realization, is his 12th grade homeroom teacher’s son. The one who walked in on him sitting naked in the kitchen, about to fuck his mother in surroundings Kyungsoo most likely thought of as his safest. The other man doesn’t seem to remember, which makes sense because Baekhyun has changed a lot since then, and he doesn’t sleep with middle-aged women anymore. Not often, at least.

Still, he feels terrible as he makes out with Kyungsoo that night, clearly seeing his teacher’s face whenever he looks at the other man.

“Do you remember 12th grade, when I told you I slept with my homeroom teacher to up my grades? Dude, Kyungsoo’s her son, he walked in on us back then. what the fuck.” Baekhyun breaks into cold sweat as soon as he dials Chanyeol’s number, “I shouldn’t tell him, should I?”

“Was that _you_? It traumatized him for life, man, if he doesn’t know it’s you then Jesus Christ, don’t let him know.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve gotten blowjobs from both Kyungsoo and his mother, it seems that the talent runs in the family.”

_“Baekhyun.”_

“Sorry! See you later Chanyeol.”

“Whatever Baek, you’re fucking gross.”

“You don’t think I’m aware? Enjoy your life as an average nine-to-fiver who’ll die full of regrets because he never experienced shit.”

Baekhyun has to admit that he likes Kyungsoo better than he liked Kyungsoo’s mother, they could get something going.

 

(solace)

 

Chanyeol’s “things to do” list has grown out of control. “Buy paper cups for Kyungsoo” being added to the list doesn’t really help. He still has a job as a PR manager for one of South Korea’s largest broadcasting companies that requires most of his time, but his cousin’s wedding is coming up soon too (he still hasn’t bought a present), and if he doesn’t find a girlfriend soon the disappointed look on his parents’ faces whenever he comes to visit will only get worse.

Maybe all those things would be doable if his sister Yoora wasn’t on life-support after nearly dying in a car accident leaving their parents fighting non-stop about whether to pull out the plug or not, their family now torn apart as months have passed and no agreement has been made.

He doesn’t know for sure, but Chanyeol’s pretty certain he’s the only one who bothers to visit her these days. The first month after the accident family members and friends had swarmed by her bed, crying hysterically, wishing her back to life, now everyone seems to have moved on.

Everyone except Chanyeol, who makes sure to visit her at least four times a week, telling her about his endless list of things to do, how Baekhyun has fucked both Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo’s mother, about his boss Joonmyun’s terrible fashion sense, and about how Kyungsoo’s coping after Jongdae went back to Kazakhstan. Chanyeol’s sister and Kyungsoo were good friends, so he feels like he has to let her know how his friend’s doing as well. Even if Kyungsoo hasn’t visited her once after the accident, but then again, he probably has other things to do.

The clock on the wall reminds him that he only has five minutes before his lunch break ends, at 1 PM he has to return to his responsibilities and leave Yoora behind, pretending to have spent his lunch time like any other person would.

 

(repetition)

 

Kyungsoo wants to smash Chanyeol’s head through the window when he arrives late at night with a bag of paper cups and plates, demanding that Kyungsoo gives him any remaining porcelain or glass in the house, but there’s nothing left for Kyungsoo to give.

“Do you need help? To clean up the mess, I mean.” Chanyeol asks.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, “Baekhyun’s here, he vacuumed earlier.” The papercuts on his hands are patched up with Band-Aids now, it makes him feel like a child.

“Was it your parents again?”

“I swear to God every time I hear my dad’s voice I want to see him suffer a slow, painful death, I want my mom to watch it all, beg for it to stop. For a long time, I thought I wanted her to die too, but I think I’d prefer seeing her continue to live her pathetic life, grieving in loneliness, experiencing what I feel whenever I have to endure their presence.” Kyungsoo has lowered his gaze so he’s not looking directly at Chanyeol, feeling too exposed already, he rarely talks about his issues with his parents, but his current lack of china to shatter leaves him with no choice.

Chanyeol sighs, “that’s fucking morbid, dude.”

That’s what Kyungsoo is, he knows, _morbid_. Full of anger, “yeah, Jongdae used to give me that a lot.” Anger slowly built up through his entire life from all kinds of different events, elementary school bullies, his mother cheating on his father with some teenager, walking in on his mother cheating on his father with said teenager, his entire relationship with Jongdae.

“Fuck Jongdae.”

Kyungsoo wishes he could. Fuck Jongdae, that is. “He’d rather fuck a sixteen-year-old prostitute straight out of tenth grade. Listen Chanyeol I think; I think you should go.”

Chanyeol leaves, Kyungsoo goes back to his bedroom, back to Baekhyun. “What’s going to happen the next time my father calls? Am I going to rob a store for china so I have something to throw against the wall? Maybe drive to my dad’s house in Goyang, grab his porcelain, throw it at _his_ wall. Maybe fucking throw it at _him_ , kill him?”

Baekhyun pulls Kyungsoo into a hug, shaking his head, “the next time I’ll be here, making sure you won’t need to turn to extreme methods like that.”

It would be a whole lot nicer if Baekhyun wouldn’t be there, the next time Kyungsoo’s father calls, for the both of them.

 

(triggers)

 

It’s 5 PM in Taldykorgan, it’s 8 PM in Seoul, Jongdae hopes Kyungsoo’s day has been all right.

“Would you mind driving me to Karabulak?”

Jongdae leans back in the driver’s seat as the seventeen-year-old girl next to him fastens her seatbelt. Contrary to the norm, she’s not a prostitute he’s about to fuck senseless in the back of his car, no, Nur Emirovna Qasim is (despite the eight-year age difference) a childhood friend. “I didn’t know you moved to Eskeldi?” He asks.

Nur is the product of an unusual marriage between an orthodox Christian Russian mother, and an extremely religious Muslim Uyghur father who fled from China to Kazakhstan in 1992 after the Soviet collapse. She has lost a ton of weight since Jongdae last saw her, but then again, it’s been many years, he’s surprised he was able to recognize her in the first place. “As if you’d want to drive all the way to Chundzha,” she mumbles, “I’m staying with a friend in Karabulak for the night. He’ll drive me home in the morning.”

“ _He_?” In reality, all Jongdae wants is for Nur to get out of the car, he hates himself for talking to her her in the first place, there’s something extremely uncomfortable about her presence, not that he can put his finger on what exactly it is. “You have a boyfriend? What’s his name? How old is he?”

She laughs, it gives off a somewhat bitter feel, “You’re not in a position to look down on my choices. I went to school with Karlygash Makhmudovna before she moved to Taldykorgan. I know about you Chongdae, I know it all.”

Jongdae freezes, the steering wheel is cold and so are his hands, but the touch still feels clammy from the sweat forming on his palms, “I,” the words get stuck in his throat, “get out of the car, Qasim.” He stops at a gas station only a few hundred feet away from where he picked her up.

“I only have one question for you,” Nur dials a number on her phone, it probably belongs to her newfound boyfriend from Karabulak, “if that was me, spreading my legs for a man the same age as you, one of your coworkers perhaps, how would it make you feel?”

 

(shock)

 

Chanyeol’s exhausted from lack of sleep and an overload of work as he gets a call from his mother, who tells him she and his father have finally decided to turn off Yoora’s life support and that the funeral is going to be next week.

“So, when are they pulling the plug on her?” He mutters, running a hand through his hair, he only slept for four hours but he feels as if it’s been forty. “I’ll say my final goodbye as soon as I can.”

His mother smacks her lips, something she usually only does when she has bad news to tell, “darling I’m sorry but they already did. You can say goodbye at the funeral next week, that’s where final goodbyes usually happen.”

It takes Chanyeol a few seconds to properly comprehend what he’s hearing, “you killed my fucking sister without telling me?” He rolls over and nearly falls face-first on the floor, but manages to grab his nightstand in time, “mom I’m on a business trip next week, yes in the Philippines, something about expanding our broadcasting to foreign countries, what do you care? This isn’t about me.”

“Chanyeol we didn’t kill her, she was already dead, how necessary is that business trip? Can’t you skip it?”

“No.” He supposes this is how Kyungsoo feels every time his father calls, “say goodbye from me, then. I have to go to work, amongst other things, yeah, I love you too.”

Thinking about how to spend his lunch breaks from now on causes an anxiety to rise within him so fiery he fears he might pull his hair out soon in pure panic. Talking to coworkers or anybody else (who might actually reply) about his problems doesn’t sound any more appealing than jumping out in front of a train, but Chanyeol came to terms with the fact that life can’t always be pleasant a long time ago.

He allows himself to be sad and feel sorry for himself for the next thirty minutes, because in thirty minutes he has to leave for work and Chanyeol can’t risk not looking presentable in front of people who are not Kyungsoo or his sister.  

 

(mistakes)

 

The caller is from Kazakhstan and Kyungsoo already knows what the fuck that means and despite seriously contemplating throwing his phone into the nearest dumpster, he still picks up the call, well-knowing he’ll hate himself for it afterwards.

“I fucked up, I’m so gross, where’s the nearest place I can go die?”

Kyungsoo’s hands are, unknowingly to himself, shaking visibly, “I’ve ruined all my china and everything else made of glass, I wake up everyday wondering if today’s going to be the day I finally drive to Goyang and kill my dad once and for all.”

Jongdae continues on the other line, either ignoring or not affected by Kyungsoo’s words, “I’ve had sex with so many girls under the age of eighteen, did things to them in bed teenagers aren’t even supposed to know of, I’m going to Hell, Kyungsoo, I’m going to Hell.”

“I’m with someone else now, Baekhyun, he doesn’t think I know who he is, but I know.” All he and Jongdae have ever been good at is talking past each other, it seems that old habits die hard.

“I ran into Nur, you know, my childhood friend.” Jongdae’s voice sounds so broken, Kyungsoo can’t help but smile, “I just, she just asked me to drive her to Karabulak, and it was already fucking uncomfortable because she’s changed so much, but then she drops the bomb, she drops the fucking bomb okay?”

Kyungsoo isn’t trembling anymore, instead he comfortably leans back on his couch, closing his eyes as he imagines Jongdae in emotional distress, _finally_. “Did she find out you fucked other girls her age? How did she take it? She didn’t give you an offer good enough for you to take it? Or is she religious? Don’t act like that wouldn’t make everything even more exciting for you, as if fucking an inexperienced teenager isn’t enough, imagine fucking an inexperienced _Muslim_ teenager who wanted to save herself for marriage.”

 _“Stop it!”_ Jongdae screams over the phone, “you don’t have to make it worse, you don’t have to make it as sinister and morbid as you always do-,”

“Oh it could be _better_ ,” Kyungsoo muses, “you could be doing it against her will. It would go something like this: Nur tells you she’s not interested in having sex with you, that the Quran permits it, that she’s waiting for another Muslim man to take her virginity after marriage, that her father would shun her if she were to have sex now. You don’t care, you’re so driven by your instincts, once you’ve touched her you can’t stop. You’d do it in a public bathroom, she’d scream, but you’d place your hand on her mouth so nobody would hear her scream, then you’d force her on her knees. You’d like her to suck you off, wouldn’t you?”

Jongdae’s still screaming, crying, hyperventilating, Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to call it, he likes the sound of it though. It’s nice to know he’s not the only person in the world feeling helpless. “She went to school with one of the girls I slept with,” Jongdae manages to communicate through his wails, “asked me how I’d feel if someone my age slept with her.”

Kyungsoo lies down on his back, he hasn’t had this much fun in years, “we can do it like that too! Say _I_ travelled to Kazakhstan, ran into Nur one evening in whatever city she lives in, she’d stand on the corner of a street a dark evening, I’d disrespect her like you disrespect every person you’ve ever been with, underage girl or me.”

The only reply he receives is the sound of the line disconnecting, Kyungsoo laughs to himself. _Morbid_ , he hears Jongdae say, _you’re so morbid._

He misses Jongdae a lot.

 

(regret)

 

“I realized something was wrong with me when I discovered the only things I find pleasure in these days are watching objects break and people suffer. That’s why I’m glad he hung up, Jongdae fucked some underage girl, but who am I to judge?”

Baekhyun’s hand slowly strokes Kyungsoo’s back, he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on between them relationship-wise, he’d love to think of Kyungsoo as more than a fuck-buddy, but then again, the other man’s mental state doesn’t appear ideal these days. “You haven’t caused anybody physical harm, you’re nothing like Jongdae.” He wants to add ‘what happened between you two anyway?’ but refrains from doing so, it’s not his business. Yet.

“I know who you are, Baekhyun.”

His hand stops moving, thinking to himself that _there’s absolutely no way_ , “yeah? We’ve known each other for a week now, it’d surprise me if you didn’t.”

“I know you fucked my mom. In our kitchen.”

 _Oh_. “Are you angry with me? I can give an explanation if you want.”

“No,” Kyungsoo mumbles, turning around so they face each other again, “we’re all just trying to cope anyway.”

 

(404 error)

**Author's Note:**

> Is this the part where I say I don't condone the actions of any of the characters?
> 
> Links that might be interesting:  
> [Koryo-saram](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koryo-saram)


End file.
